For Earth is Hollow and I Have Touched the Sky
by Chastity1
Summary: [complete] "Love, if you love me, lie next to me. Be for me, like rain, the getting out of the tiredness, the fatuousness, the semi-lust of intentional indifference..."
1. Prologue

Denial is Not a River in Africa

Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me in any form. Which is probably a good thing. I'd give all the youngsters nightmares.

Dedication: I started writing this as a birthday present to my Harry Potter-obsessive friend, who's birthday is on June 25. Lauren, have a wonderful birthday and I hope you get all the presents you wanted!

Notes: Citrus-flavored. Meaning lemon/lime. If you don't know what either of those terms mean, I suggest you leave. I don't want to be held responsible for tainting your innocent mind. No slash, meaning only heterosexual couples. I'm not against slash; I suppose you _could_ get Harry x Ron, but I just don't see it that way. Anyway, happy reading!

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For Earth is Hollow and I Have Touched the Sky

Prologue

By Pata

I never knew Bertie Bott…but I do like her jellybeans.

Funny how a single package of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans could have lead to this whole mess. All this crap I'm elbow-deep in now.

So I made a few mistakes. I'm only human. The problem is, I'm not allowed to be "only human." Not with my prestigious family name, abusive parents, violent and barbaric upbringing. The weight of all the hopes and dreams of my parents, and their parents, fall on my shoulders. 

I guess I never knew any way other than the way I was raised. And that was to get what I wanted, when I wanted it. I have a short temper and access to a whole hell of a lot of weapons. Dangerous weapons, at that. 

The boy should have known better than to provoke me. Surely some of the blame falls on him! 

I would be tried as a minor…except that I'm eighteen.

I could pass for seventeen, or even sixteen. I'm not particularly tall or masculine. Kind of scrawny, if it comes to that. Pale, gaunt. I don't look eighteen. But I was eighteen before I could even count that high. My parents made sure of that.

Stayed a year ahead in schooling, always pushed to my limits, made to be more mature than any child should have been.

If I ever was a child, I have forgotten it now. 

No. I was never a child. I had no childhood. It was robbed from me by two people with the nerve to call themselves my parents.

When I was nine, I shoplifted a bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. Only one. I'd been forbidden to try them – "Too colorful," my father had said – but they always looked so good. So tantalizingly prohibited. 

So I stole just one bag. I sat on the corner of the street and ripped it open greedily, stuffing the round, multi-colored beans down my throat at a tremendous rate.

They were every bit as good as I hoped. They were so satanically delicious, just the taste of their sweet prohibition, that I even ate and overlooked flavors such as sardine and blood. And when I was about halfway through the bag, my father caught me. And Lucius Malfoy takes no crap from anyone – not even his son.

"Draco!" he screamed at me. "Didn't I tell you never to eat those beans? They're too happy! Too…kiddy. You're too mature to eat a package of God damned rainbow colored candy jellybeans!" 

He was furious. He yelled and screamed. He hit me. He took my sweet jellybeans away from me. I followed them with my small, sad blue eyes from my father's tight grip to their resting place in the wastebasket. My Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. My prize. My sweet candies.

I was lectured for hours by my mother and father and even my house elf. I was only nine and had only eaten a stolen package of jellybeans, but they treated me as though I had committed murder. I heard their words of derisive hatred, but I paid no attention.

For I had tasted my first sample of defiance. I had broken my first family rule. And there is nothing more addictive than disobedience.


	2. The Lake Incident

Disclaimer: HABATAPA

Disclaimer: HABATAPA! Cream of Lady Marmalaaaaaaaaade! TOKYO DARKSIDO! THE CAMERA ISN'T STICKING! Lay low. BLUE MAN! Will the real J – wait, this is supposed to be a disclaimer, isn't it? Fine. I don't own Harry Potter. Jesum. Just ruin all my fun, why don't you…

Notes: Lauren's birthday nears…I must hurry and write!

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For Earth is Hollow and I Have Touched the Sky

Part I: The Lake Incident

By Pata

"Honored members of the Justice Court, I stand before you today to present my case and defend myself against charges of murder and manslaughter."   


As I spoke I managed to keep my voice even, by my gray-blue eyes flitted to each of the seven judges sitting in front of me. But their eyes were not on me; the head justice looked at the assembled friends and family members. Harry Potter in the front row, little prude that he is, scowling at me; the Weasleys (I caught the look of hatred on my fathers face); my disapproving parents, Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy; Hermione… Mudbl…damn it. I can't even fake it anymore.

The head justice said, "Draco Malfoy, did you or did you not intentionally murder Ronald Weasley?"

I didn't hang my head in shame, nor did I look the judge in the eye. I simply said, "Yes. I killed him."

A gasp rose from the assembled crowd. Molly Weasley nearly fainted. "Kill him right now!" Arthur Weasley screamed, tears running down his cheeks. "The little wrench admitted to the deed; use the death charm on him right now!"

The main judge held up a hand to silence him. "Mr. Weasley, do not be irrational." He turned to me. His eyes were a calm, understanding brown. "Mr. Malfoy, please tell us your version of events."

I nodded. I knew the eyes of all of them were on me. Most of them, I was sure, hoping I would be killed for murdering Ron. None of them understood the circumstances, of course. None of them knew. 

Except one. She knew everything. And I could only hope she wouldn't betray me. 

I took a deep breath. "Surely, Justice, you know of the rock that overhangs the great lake at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry? Well, it's one of my favorite places to go and relax…"

*

I guess I thought I was the only person who knew that the rock existed, for I had never been bother there before. I am troubled man, Justice, and sometimes I think that periods of relaxation and introspection on that rock are the only things that kept me from going insane. 

From peering over the edge of the rock, I could clearly see my reflection in the lake. Pale face with defined features, small pointed nose with a small smattering of nearly invisible freckles, slitted bluish-gray eyes that had a piercing, cold effect. I knew there was no one person in all of Hogwarts that could hold my gaze; for, as they say, eyes are the windows to the soul.

It was spring day, early afternoon, a weekend. I had gone to my rock in order to calm myself down, for I had been having an exceptionally bad day. As I looked down in the water, my reflection stared calmly and composedly back at me, gray eyes glinting in the sunlight. As I stared, another figure appeared in the water next to me, one with long, curled brown hair and warm amber eyes. I didn't recognizer her at first, but…

"Granger?"

She squeaked, shocked at my seemingly sudden appearance on the rock. "Malfoy!"

"What the hell are you doing on my rock?" I cried angrily. The _nerve_!

"Excuse you! This is not your rock, I don't see your name on it anywhere," she snapped, folding her arms across her chest. 

I glared at her. "This _is_ my rock, you filthy hybrid, so back off! Damn idiot!"

I was surprised, for she wasn't bothered at all by my insults. "Surprising to see you here; I thought you were getting thrown out of Hogwarts when we were third years. I suppose only your father kept you alive here, surely it wasn't your brainpower."

"Little Mudblood asshole!" I screeched at her, and I dove for her, catching her around the middle and pinning her to the ground. She screamed, angry now, and punched me hard in the nose.

I didn't flinch, not even as the blood dripped from my broken nose onto her forehead. I grabbed both her wrists and pegged them to the ground, sitting on her stomach and keeping her legs motionless with my own.

"You're going to pay for that," I spat at her, my eyes narrowing in anticipation. She looked at me, and those golden orbs widened in shock.

"You wouldn't!"

I hauled her to her feet, hoisted her up, and tossed her out off the rock. There was a splash as she connected with the cold water, and a small scream of anger. "Malfoy!" she yelled. I looked down over the rock at her.

She was laughing. She was taking it so well. I found myself smiling slightly as well, but I masked it with my usual sneer. "I hope you're happy," she said. She was completely submerged in the dirty lake water, only her head staying above the surface. 

She was angry, but playfully; she hated me, I knew – or I thought I knew, I suppose. Hermione Granger hated me, but I didn't care. She was laughing right now, as though it was all a big game.

Her laugh was high-pitched and clear, and I thought, at that moment, that I had never seen someone so beau…

*

"It doesn't matter what I thought, Justice." I caught myself just in time. The judges looked at me, unsure what to make of what I had nearly said. 

I glanced over at Harry. His cold scowl had softened slightly, and I wasn't sure why…did the little brat have sympathy for me? Surely he wasn't as cold-hearted as I would have been had our positions been switched.

Next to him was Hermione. Our gaze met for one second and I knew exactly what went through her head. There were tears on her cheeks, barely visible, but I saw them. She knew as well as I did that I was dead if I told the truth.   
  
For she knew the truth.

"Mr. Malfoy," said the head justice, "please continue with your narrative."

My mind raced. I nodded slightly, uncertain. "I will."

And I did continue, but I omitted the next three weeks of my life, for they would surely end it if my father knew what happened in that time span.


	3. Math Tutoring

Disclaimer: DRACO, I LOVE YOU

Disclaimer: DRACO, I LOVE YOU! Can I just have Draco? Please? I promise I don't need anyone else… Oh fine, you big meanies. I don't own Harry Potter, or Draco. ***runs off into a corner sobbing***

Notes: Congratulations to me! I won the analytical writing award at my school last week! ***crickets chirping*** Oooookay then. On with the fic!

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For Earth is Hollow and I Have Touched the Sky

Part II: Math Tutoring

By Pata

I opened my mouth to tell the second half of my story, but no words came out. There was a very pregnant silence.

"Mr. Malfoy," one of the judges prompted.

"I'm sorry, Justice, I was just…arranging my thoughts," I said, just a little too quickly.

The judge's eyes rolled over me, and then over to Hermione, and back to me. Finally, he spoke. "Please continue. We are eager to know why you committed this murder." The light tone of sarcasm in his voice did not go unnoticed.

I nodded politely, finally gathering the selective facts I was going to use and shoving all knowledge of the next fortnight and a half into the back of my mind. Nothing in the three weeks after the incident on the rock could be heard or said in this court. My parents would kill me.

"While Granger claimed she felt fine after her dip in the lake, I insisted that she go to the Infirmary lest I had hurt her," I said, clearing my throat nervously. "I wanted to count the injuries, and I had to go myself, due to the broken nose she had given me."

*

We walked to the infirmary together, not talking. Upon our arrival, Granger wet and cold and shivering and myself with a bloodied face, Madam Pomfrey threw a near-fit. She laid both of us out in beds, giving us various soups and remedies and medicines. 

Hours passed in silence. We spoke not at all, and the only sound was Madam Pomfrey rummaging through cabinets and treating other patients.

And then, around four, Potter arrived. He peered cautiously around the door, and, upon spotting Granger, took a tentative step into the room. "I brought your homework," he said, running a hand nervously through his black mane. "Malfoy, I got yours from Pansy Parkinson. Here."

He placed a pile of notebooks next to my bed. I craned my neck in order to see what they were. "Thanks," I managed to say. 

He stared at me like Hell's dogs had been unleashed through those words. I suppose he was unused to any form of kindness from me. Granger took her books as well with a nod of appreciation and Potter left us. 

Granger sat up, taking her books in her lap, and began to work. I forced myself onto one elbow and took the first book. Arithmetic. I opened the textbook and took a pencil in my hand, turning to the specified pages.

Granger, having already done a good number of problems herself, peered over at me to see what I had done. Half a problem, I'm ashamed to admit. She clucked her tongue disapprovingly at me. "Malfoy, you're doing it all wrong."

"Really?" I snapped, meaner than I'd intended. "Why don't you do it?"

She threw off her covers and got to her feet, checking hurriedly make sure Madam Pomfrey was preoccupied with another patient; she was, a small, nervous-looking boy with skrewt-related burns. "Fine," she said resolutely, "I will."

She took a seat next to me on the bed, flipping the pages of the book to the original lesson plan. Slowly, carefully, she read them to me, explaining it in laymen's terms as she went. And as she talked, the pieces gradually began to fit together.

It was fascinating. We got out of the infirmary a few days later, and my scores, in Arithmetic especially, had skyrocketed. I'd had a B average before, and now it was rising to an A or A+. I was stunned, but not as much as Granger. She was amazed at the way I was learning things, and my new attitude toward education.

"Malfoy," she said to me one day, some weeks later, "you're doing amazing in your scores! I can't believe I actually helped someone so much. You're a very intelligent boy."

I smiled at her. I can't explain it, but I did. "You've helped me so much. Look, can we make this a regular deal? Can you tutor me…every Wednesday and Friday?"

She agreed. And every Wednesday and every Friday I would go to the library to meet her, and we would study. Our meetings became increasingly more frequent, and longer. 

I –

*

"Why?" 

The comment was sudden, unexpected. It broke my rhythm of speech and made my heart leap into my throat and veins pump harder with this new accusation. It was little Ginny Weasley who had spoken.

"What?" I asked, bewildered.

"Why?" she repeated. "Why did your meetings become more and more common?"

I choked on my words. "I…uh…"

I glanced at the head judge for help, but he was clearly not on my side. He pursed his lips into a thin colorless line and rested his hands on the table, slightly raised, fingers touching. "Yes, Mr. Malfoy," he drawled, "tell us why."


	4. He Who Lies Down with Dogs...

Disclaimer: I do not own anything

Disclaimer: I do not own anything. Except you. Sing for me, slave.

Notes: Thanks to everyone who reviewed this! This was my first venture into the HP forum, and you've made it so much more pleasant than it might have been. Your support means a lot to me. 

And to ALL my reviewers: Thank you! I've hit seven hundred reviews, baby!

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For Earth is Hollow and I Have Touched the Sky

Part III: He Who Lies Down with Dogs…

By Pata

I was sweating. All their eyes were on me. My mouth was dry, my palms moist. "My… my tutoring sessions with Hermi – Granger – became more incessant because I became addicted to learning," I concluded.

Ginny looked at me; she didn't seem entirely satisfied, but it was enough to quell her inquiries for the moment. However, the head judge was another story. His formerly warm brown eyes were cold, cutting. I had clearly lost his support, for the time being, anyway. 

"'Addicted', Mr. Malfoy?" He raised a dark eyebrow questioningly.

I nodded, swallowing the lump that had materialized in my throat. I wasn't one to lose my cool under pressure, but I was coming damn close. "Yes," I said, "addicted. I wanted to learn so much, in so sort a time. I was…eager, Justice. Very eager."

I stole a glance at Hermione. So nodded, approving of my fabricated falsities. Encouraged, I continued on, more boldly now: "I urged Granger to help me more, spend more time teaching me things. I became somewhat overly ambitious. I wanted to be the smartest kid in Hogwarts. Smarter than my father had been, smarter than my fellow Slytherins, smarter than Granger herself…"

* 

They say, Justice, that he who lies down with dogs gets up with fleas. And I had lain down with Hermione, and been bitten by a certain learning flea. A never-ending thirst, an itch for knowledge, never quite quenched but only repressed. I longed for education; I was like a balloon, filled only halfway with helium, though it could only fly when filled to the brim.

One Friday, after spending an hour in the library studying Ancient Runes, I begged of Granger, "Please? Please help me again on Saturday; I need to work on Astronomy."

She looked at me. "Astronomy? But that can only be done outside, at night."

"Then meet me on the rock by the lake, at nine-thirty. We'll study the stars. I need help," I implored, putting on my best puppy-dog face. "I need to work on my mapping, and which star is which, and when they're visible…"

She held a finger to my lips, silencing me. "I'll meet you, Malfoy, don't get your knickers all twisted up."

And then she left. I started packing up my books, shoving things hurriedly into my rucksack. I slung the green, Slytherin-marked pack over one shoulder and went to leave when a book caught my eye. _Fahrenheit 451. _A muggle book, which had somehow found its way into the Hogwarts library. It looked intriguing somehow, a small black turtleback with red flames licking up the spine, the author's name printed in silver ink: Ray Bradbury.

I picked it up, flipping it over and reading the summary on the back. A story about a society in which all books were burned…

Fahrenheit 451…is the temperature at which paper burns, I recalled from my recently acquired stock of knowledge. 

It sounded good, so I checked it out. The librarian clearly didn't notice that it was muggle book; she simply scanned it into her record book and allowed me to take it, but not without reminding me that I owned three sickles for an overdue book. I remembered it well; Crabbe, big oaf that he was, had thrown it into the lake where it had ultimately rotted away or been devoured by the waterbeasts some months ago.

I extracted the change from my pocket and strode calmly out of the library. I walked back the Slytherin common room, where I curled up a nice, comfy spot on the couch in front of the fire, which I had turned a vibrant blue-green with a charm earlier that day just for a change, and opened my book.

*

At this, my father Lucius Malfoy interrupted angrily. "Draco!" he chastised me. "You were reading a _muggle _book?"

I cowered back, reflexively bring my arms up to shield myself. "It looked engaging…" 

"'Engaging'? 'Engaging,' my ass!" His voice had risen to dangerously high levels. It was at this point, had we been at home, that he would have reached the peak of his anger and inflicted wounds upon me that he would later deny. But I had scars to prove it. He ranted on, "It was a muggle book, about muggle values! Dragon - "

__

Crap, I thought, _he only calls me that when he's really, really angry…_

" – haven't I taught you never to associate with muggles or anything that comes of them?" At this point, he stood up, and waggled a finger dramatically at Hermione. "_She _is a Mudblood, why were you even being tutored by her in the first place?! Surely there were purebloods smarter than that dumbass!"

Hermione, sensing that she was now in danger of feeling my father's cold wrath, pleaded quietly to the judge, "Justice, shouldn't you make him stop?"

The Justice shook his head. "No, allow Lucius to make his point."

Through this, my father had not stopped raving. "Muggles are dirty, dirty creatures! Voldemort - "

A gasp from the courtroom, and a squeal from some of the more fragile ones, was brought on by this, but Father paid no heed.

" – should've killed all of them; scumming up the Earth, they are! Some say Earth is only hollow, but damn muggles are gonna overrun it, hollow or not! I don't care if they have their own little matrix, Dragon, but you don't _ever_ get mixed up with them and their twisted, upside-down view of the world!"

Hermione looked at me. Our eyes locked. There were tears in hers; she'd known I was in bad trouble with the law, but not that I was also being persecuted by my family. 

__

He doesn't know, I mouthed.

She gasped and I thought she was going to faint at the fate that awaited me. 

My father kept steady in his lectures even as this went on. He was talking more to himself than anyone else now, and a general hush had fallen over the assembled wizards and witches. Finally, a calm voice broke Lucius' spiel. 

"Lucius Malfoy, stop it." 

All eyes turned to the small, raven-haired boy who had spoken. Harry Potter was sticking up for me. Against my own father!

Father looked at him. Anger blazed in his eyes; for Harry, who had been raised a muggle, had not only given him an order, but had disrespected him by calling him by his full name.

"You little…"

"Lucius, desist," the head judge said, holding up a strong, callused hand. My father had no choice but to obey. He sat back down, but out gazes met and he glared at me, which cemented my suspicions that I was going to get a severe beating if I survived this trial. Which I probably wouldn't anyway.

"Mr. Malfoy, continue your tale," the judge said.

"Anyway," I said, my pressing my hands into my lap to keep them from shaking, "I became so absorbed in my book that I read it straight until dinner. I would've forgotten to eat completely, had it not been for Pansy, who ushered me down to the dining room graciously…"


	5. ...Gets Up with Fleas

Disclaimer: My evil plan to take over the Harry Potter empire will soon be complete

Disclaimer: My evil plan to take over the Harry Potter empire will soon be complete! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! But until then...I shall wait.

Notes: I am going away to the Bahamas on Wednesday, June 20, and I won't be back until early July, unless my cruise-ship sinks and I die. But assuming I live, I will continue this story when I get home unless I can convince my father to give me his laptop, in which case I will work on it while I'm away. Anyway, much love! *tips sunglasses* Taa!

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For Earth is Hollow and I Have Touched the Sky

Part IV: …Gets Up With Fleas

By Pata

The dining hall was crowded with Hogwarts students adorned in typical black-gothic robes and pointed hats with the various crests of the Houses emblazoned on their clothing, but not so crowded that Pansy couldn't find me a seat next to her. 

"Thank you, Pansy," I managed politely as she showed me the chair she had kicked another Slytherin out of to allow me to sit in. She took the one next to me.

I unfolded my silver-hemmed green napkin into my lap and took a steaming lobster and some potatoes from the never-ending buffet. Across the room, a cheery-looking red and gold table buzzed with the noise of conversation.

I saw Granger, sitting next to Potty and the Weasel. She turned and caught my eye, nodding slightly to confirm out meeting. Weasley turned her back around and struck up a conversation, which caused her to lose all interest in me.

*

"Interest?" repeated Percy Weasley. "She had interest in you?"

I rolled my eyes at him, but inside my heart leapt up into my throat and pounded there. I swallowed it back down to its rightful spot in my chest. "Not _that _kind of interest. Just scholarly interest. She wanted to teach; I wanted to learn. It was a student-teacher relationship."

Percy was skeptical, that much was obvious. He was about to speak again, but Fred Weasley clapped a hand over his mouth.

"Percy?" he said. "Shaddup."

"It's good for you," George added.

Percy resisted the two brigands, but they didn't release him. Clearly neither cared about me; they were solely interested in the torment of their brother. It was a lucky thing for me, though. 

"Please go on, Mr. Malfoy," one of the judges said, with a meaningful glance in my father's direction. Lucius glared at him, until Mother put a hand on his shoulder and gave him a don't-play-with-fire look.

I continued, "Anyway, through this, Pansy had been rambling on continuously about one thing or another."

*

"Isn't it unfair how Gryffindor wins the House Cup every year?" she quipped.

"They don't win it every year," I said.

"Well, almost every year then!" she snapped indignantly in her annoying nasal twang. "I mean, they're clearly Dumbledore's favorite house. Come _on_, he loves that fool Potter and his lovely scar." She launched into a rather believable impression of the boy. "'Look at my scar! He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named didn't kill me! Look at me, I can say his name and not be scared! Voldemort, Voldemort! Voldemort, Voldemort, Voldemort, Voldemort, VOLDEMORT!'"

Well, that pretty much silenced out entire table. Pansy hid her face shamefully behind her napkin. A tall, burly boy a year or so older than myself cleared his throat rudely. "Give her a break," I said, unable to believe I was sticking up for someone I utterly despised, "she was doing an impression of Potter."

And _that_ caused much of the Slytherin table to erupt into cheers for Pansy, which, in turn, caused the other House tables to turn and look at us. I shook my head ruefully in shame at my Housemates and went back to quietly munching on my lobster.

Dinner was adjourned before long, and as I got up put my hat back on my head, a wind rushed past me as someone walked by very rapidly. 

"It's you!" a male voice cried suddenly.

I secured my hat and my head and looked around, but I didn't see anyone. I started toward the door, but a hand grabbed the back of my robes and stopped me short. I whipped quickly around to meet a pair of dangerously narrowed, angry seafoam-colored eyes.

"It's you!" he repeated.

I rolled my eyes over the boy. His mess of red hair fell down over his face in sexy, boyish wisps; freckles were scattered across his face. He stood taller than me by quite some inches, and my forehead was about level with his nose.

I snorted at him. "I know I'm famous, Weasley, but why do you keep exclaiming that?"

"It's your cologne that she smells like," Ron Weasley said, quieter this time. 

"What are you talking about?" I asked impatiently, blowing aside a strand of silvery hair that had fallen down over my eye.

"It's what Hermione smells like," he snapped. "Your cologne. I've been noticing it for a while now, but I couldn't quite place the scent." He glared at me and his eyes nearly burned into my soul. I stared stolidly back with my icy, mind-bending eyes, but he didn't even flinch. Suddenly, he burst out with: "You've been kissing her, haven't you?"

*

"And had you?" the head Justice asked. "Had you been kissing her?"

"Of course not," I said, with a quick glance in Hermione's direction. "Surely she only smelled of my cologne because of our tutoring sessions. I'd never kiss a _Mudblood._" 

Somehow I found it much harder to spit out that insult now…


	6. Conspiracies and Falsities

Disclaimer: Guess what

Disclaimer: Guess what? (What? NOTHING!) I don't own Harry Potter. I know it's tragic. Why don't we all band together to steal it? With the mere force of numbers we should be able to overpower those legal fiends…

Notes: Not in the Bahamas yet…hoping to get this chapter out before I leave. Don't die of suspense. ^-^

Lauren: I will get it bound for you, don't worry. That is, once I finish it. 

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For Earth is Hollow and I Have Touched the Sky

Part V: Conspiracies and Falsities

By Pata

"Mudblood?!" Hermione demanded, standing up so quickly that she banged the back of her knees on the bench. "Mudblood?!"

My heart did some kind of Irish jig inside my chest. I managed to keep a straight face. "Mudblood! You're a God damn Mudblood and I don't associate with your type!"

And then a small smile peeked out at the corners of her mouth. She hid it behind an angry snort. "You're an insolent little bastard, you…insolent little bastard!"

__

She's acting, I realized. She's acting to keep the judges believing that we hate each other. And she clearly understood that I was acting too.

Or lying, you could call it. Take your pick.

"If you think I've been kissing her now, you've got problems," I snarled at the judge who had spoken earlier. He shrank back, afraid, but the head judge was not fooled by our charade. 

"Mr. Malfoy," he said venomously, "your quarrels with Miss Granger are all very well, but before I jump to any hasty decisions, why don't you just go on with your narrative? I'd hate for our verdict to be cursorily based only on your actions in the courtroom." 

I gritted my teeth. "I met Granger on the rock at nine, as promised. She carried three astronomy books and a star-map…"

*

"Here," she said, grunting with the effort of lifting the three heavy textbook and placing them next to me in the darkness. She illuminated the tip of her wand with a simple charm, burying the other end in the dirt to provide a steady light. She was wearing a normal muggle outfit, as was I. It was a Friday; most Hogwarts students enjoyed the free-dress of the weekends. She unrolled the map on the rock, using two small stones to hold it open.

We lay on our backs, side to side, watching the stars in the night sky. As we looked, she pointed out each constellation, and then pointed to its picture on the map, using the textbooks to illustrate its changing positions and locations during the year.

"See that?" she said, gesturing to a drawing in the book. "That's Orion. He's right…" she squinted, then guided my hand to point directly at it, "there."

"And that's his belt, right?" I asked, pointing to the three small stars across his middle in a perfect line. 

She nodded. 

Well, subject leads on to subject, Justice, and the night went by as we finished studying but continued to talk. After a while we got on to the topic of Weasley.

"He's very jealous, Ron is," Granger said. 

"Of what?"

She rolled over onto one elbow to look right at me. "Of us."

* 

"Were you two an item at that point?" the head judge asked.

I heard my father get to his feet behind me, ready to shoot an arrow right through my heart if I admitted to Hermione and I 'being an item.'

"No," I said as calmly as possible, "but Ron was simply assuming so. Granger had not told him of our tutoring sessions, lest he become jealous. But it didn't matter anyway, now."

"Hmm," the judge said. "Well, then, continue."

*

"What do you mean, 'of us'?" I asked.

She smiled wryly. "That's what's funny, Malfoy." She laughed, something like a crazy person would at a murder plot. "He thinks we're dating."

I managed a short, barking laugh, but I didn't find it as funny as she did.

Her air suddenly became very serious. "He wants to kill you," she said.

"Surely he's just saying that," I assured her, putting a hand around her arm.

She shook her head, removing my hand from her shoulder delicately with two of her fingers. "No. He means it, Malfoy. He's going to murder you. I saw the book in his room this evening after dinner. _Rat Eyes and Fish Brains, Curses for the Beginning Wizard_, open to page 214 – Death Charm. I caught sight of him reciting the words, practicing."

I asked, "What are they?"

"The words to the Death Charm?"

"No, Guy Fawkes' phone numbers," I snapped sarcastically. 

She looked nervous. "Why do you want to know?"

I took her face in my hands, turning her to look straight into my eyes. "It's him or me," I said slowly. "Either he dies or I die."

A pause. She peeled my fingers off her cheeks one by one and looked away. "_Nisyl da edt soma._"

"What?"

"Those are the words to the Death Charm," she whispered. "_Nisyl da edt soma."_

"Nisyl da edt soma…" I said slowly, enunciating every syllable. The words seemed to roll of my tongue like dewdrops off a rose petal. 

"Don't kill him now," she begged, "wait until morning, at least."

*

"Why did she want to wait until morning?" my mother asked. It was the first time she'd spoken.

I shrugged. "Wanted to say goodbye, I guess. Or admit something, or do something, or whatever." I coughed just a little too nervously. "Anyway, Granger allowed me to spend the night in the Gryffindor common room because…"

*

"…Ron said he was going to go to your House and kill you at five-thirty, and it'll just be easier this way," Granger promised.

She waited up with me in the common room for an hour or so, but finally became too tired and crashed in the girl's dormitory. So there I was, all alone, in the Gryffindor common room, counting down the hours until either Ron Weasley or myself would lie dead. 

Around midnight, I took out _Fahrenheit 451 _and read almost the whole book, until I felt I would die of exhaustion.

I decided to catch some sleep around two, when I could no longer keeps my eyes open. I lay back on the soft red sofa and promised myself I would only sleep for a minute or two.

But I was much more tired than I anticipated, and before I knew it I was awakened by the sound of stairs creaking. I opened my eyes, blinked, and found myself looking into startled seagreen eyes.

"Jesus Christ!" I screamed.

Ron Weasley clasped a hand over my mouth and pointed his wand between my eyes. "Don't move," he said slowly. "Don't speak. Don't breathe. Don't do _anything_. Except maybe pray."

I obeyed. We stayed a moment in complete silence. Finally, I whispered through his fingers, "What in the name of God are you doing?"

"Eliminating a problem," he snarled. "Didn't I tell you not to talk?"

"Why are you giving me orders?" I snapped, shoving his hand away from my mouth so that I could sit up. 

He was so angry he couldn't talk. I swear his normally calm green eyes flashed blood-red. "Shut up, Malfoy. I talk, you listen."

I reached into my back pocket and curled my fingers around my wand, but didn't extract it. I smiled disarmingly and lay back on the sofa. "Don't say a word," Ron ordered me. "Just stay still. Close your eyes."

I did. I kept my fingers on my wand and I felt him press a hand against my heart. I could hear the steady beat. He whispered, "_Nisyl da e - _"

I was about to die. I had no choice, Justice.

I whipped out my wand. "You know what, Mr. Control-Freak, I have an order for you!" I yelled. "Die!"

Weasley stopped talking abruptly, shocking at my sudden rebellion. I held my wand above my head, whispering the words of the charm. "_Nisyl da edt soma..._"

He didn't even cry out. His eyes went wide in pain and fear; his hand clutched vainly at his heart. He seemed to be trying to make a sound, but he couldn't. He simply dropped to the floor, dead.

I looked around, shocked at what I'd done. My breathing quickened, sweat glistened on every inch of my body. I was scared. Frightened. I knew I would be persecuted.

I ran out of that common room faster than I've ever run in my life. I was in such a hurry I forgot my book and left one of my sneakers. But no matter how fast I ran my guilt outran me, and now I am here. 

Ready to accept my fate.

*

I sat down, my story finished, and hung my head. An uncomfortable silence reigned. 

"There is nothing more to tell, Mr. Malfoy?" the head justice asked.

I looked up and met his gaze. "No, Justice. Nothing more to tell."

I turned and caught Hermione's eye. I must have stared for just a moment too long because Arthur Weasley leapt up and started yelling, "He's lying! He's lying, Justice!"

"Even if he was," the lead Justice drawled, "we would have no way of telling. If you are so sure, Arthur, what do you suggest?"

Arthur Weasley's eyes burned with a cold, angry fire. "I suggest a live memory interface. I suggest that we use a charm and go into the boy's head and see these memories exactly as they happened, without Draco fouling them up with his damned lies!"

The judge rubbed his chin, considering the idea. "Yes, let's do it. Unless Mr. Malfoy objects, of course." He smiled ironically at me. He knew as well as I did that if I refused it proved my guilt. Even if I had been telling the truth about why I killed Ron, there were other thing in my memory…things that would have me killed…if not by the court, by my family…

I stared. My heart wouldn't stop pounding – I was trapped. I stuttered, "I have no p-problems with a l-live m-m-memory interface, J-Justice." 


	7. Rendezvous

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I'm sorry I have no humour for you today, but I recently read Cherry Blossom's "Bleeding on the Inside" and I am in a very solemn mood. 

Notes: I'm back from the Caribbean! And already writing again! Thanks for your overflowing support with this story, and I hope to finish it as soon as possible for all of you.

Please Keep in Mind:

****

I think you'd drive better with that cell phone up your butt!

Keep your attention on the road and your hands on the wheel. It saves lives.

::Hang Up and Drive::

****

For Earth is Hollow and I Have Touched the Sky

Part VII: Rendezvous

By Pata

A small gasp escaped Hermione's perfect peach-colored lips at my words. She collapsed into Harry's arms, her eyes closing and her body going limp. The boy sank to his knees on the ground, resting Hermione on his lap. Gently he placed one hand on her cheek, then brushed it over her forehead to check for a reaction. 

The justices all shifted and seven pairs of eyes turned to look in her direction.

He looked up at the seven judges and shook his head. "She's out cold."

One of the judges looked from Hermione to me. His blue eyes burned through me. I wiped sweaty palms on my jeans as I returned his questioning look, trying my best to look innocent. 

"Well?" the justice asked. "She's unconscious, Mr. Malfoy. What have you got to say?"

He wasn't buying my act. I shook my head. "It's awfully hot in here, Justice."

Harry quickly caught on to my idea. "Bally stifling!" he quipped. "Just about ready to burst into flames, wot?" He smiled a nervous smile.

There was an uncomfortable pause. The justice who had accused me opened his mouth to speak again, but the head judge beat him to it.

"Lucius," he said to my father, "would you use that spell of yours to lower the temperature, _sil vous plait_?"

My father sneered at him, but obeyed. Instantly the air in the room was so low that goosepimples broke out on both of my arms. I folded my hands into the sleeves of my wizard robe, putting on a quasi-smile. "Much better."

Over in the seats, Harry was administering a cold compress to Hermione's forehead and whispering a spell to himself. I watched in silence, afraid to speak, afraid to stay quiet. 

Slowly, the beautiful almond-shaped brown eyes fluttered open and a small moan leaked from her slightly parted lips. She blinked several times as Harry helped her cautiously to her feet. "Feeling better?" he asked, allowing her to stand on her own.

"Oh," she murmured, "a live memory interface…yes. Sorry to interrupt your trial. Do carry on…"

I stared at her, appalled. But she wasn't finished. She sank back into the chair, wiping beads of perspiration from her forehead. "Oh, oh. Does anyone have an aspirin? Or some kind of spell? My head aches."

"Perhaps," Harry suggested, "we should adjourn?"

My father stood up, outraged at this idea. "Justice, I assure the girl can function just fine. No recess is needed! We can continue and hopefully finish this deal today; surely that would be a convenience to us all. I can personally vouch for - "

"Lucius," said the head justice warningly. He paused, then picked up his gavel. "We will adjourn for one standard hour. Then we shall resume with a complete memory interface for Mr. Malfoy." He pounded the gavel upon the lectern. "Court dismissed."

I melted into my chair, a relieved sigh escaping unnoticed from my mouth.

*

I filed calmly out of the courtroom doors, but once the crowd had cleared I took off like a bat out of Hell. I raced around the side of the building, skipping over rocks, hoping over plants, tears spilling from my eyes.

The tears clouded my vision and I didn't see the step ahead of me. I stepped on the hem of my robes and fell face down in the grass, trying vainly to get up. Eventually my rage and indignance took over, and I pounded the earth in anger at this unfairness.

Finally the tears and the pain and the fear subsided. I huddled against the wall, nursing the bleeding wound just above my right eye and the scrape on my wrist.

"Draco?" a voice ventured timidly. A voice I recognized and was overjoyed to hear. 

A girl with thick, beautiful brown hair and glowing golden eyes seemed to appear before my eyes. Her cheeks were traced with the silver rivulets of tears, still flowing rivers of sadness. Her voice shook with emotion and grief. "Oh, Draco!"

I got to my feet, and she fell into my embrace, her tears leaving small wet patches on the shoulder of my robes. I ran my hands over her back soothingly, whispering words of empty consolation in her ear. We both knew it was hopeless.

"You're going to be convicted," she said through her sobs. "You're going to be given the Dementor's Kiss."

I kissed her forehead softly, leaving a red dot of blood from the corner of my mouth due to my fall. "Don't talk like that. Who knows? Maybe the judge will think some of the memories pointless or moot…"

I couldn't fake enthusiasm, and my speech only brought on a new bout of tears. When she spoke, her voice was laced with sobs but more controlled. "Draco, you killed Ron. I know it was justified, but he's dead and we're having a love affair and soon all of that will be public knowledge!"

I opened my mouth, but was silenced by hers pressing onto it. I gave up on words and fell into the kiss, before pulling away to shake my head and murmur words of disbelief.

"No, no," I whispered maniacally, "you can't. They'll be able to pull that up on memory too."

She looked up at me with a devilish, defiant look in her eyes. The blood from my mouth lined her lips like some kind of satanic lipstick.

"I don't care," she hissed into my mouth, "damn rules. Damn laws." Her words were so temping and sultry I could resist her taking my lips again. But again common sense kicked in and I pushed her away.

"I do. I care. I'm the one who's going to be making out with a Dementor."

She laughed, in spite of the situation. She wrapped an arm around my waist, her eyes filling with sadness. "This may be the last time we can do this, you know."

I looked at her solemnly. "Yeah. I know."

She smiled at me sadly. "Don't put on a brave face for me, Draco. I love you, and I can see right through you."

I looked down at my feet in mock shame, chuckling gently at her jests. "Damn you, woman."

She grabbed my wrist and twisted unnaturally to glance at my watch. "Ouch, Herm, that hurts like a bitch!" I snapped.

"Crybaby," she teased. Instantly her air was serious. "Five minutes, Draco."

I shook my wrist to return the bones to their normal pattern. "Five minutes until they probe through my memory and take out all the things I kept to myself. Everything private. Fears, emotions…sins. All of it will be theirs."

She pulled away from me, tears renewing the paths they'd traced from her eye to her jaw. "We should go. I love you, Draco Malfoy. And don't you ever forget it."

She kissed me lightly on the mouth and flew away down to the doors, robes hitched up around her knees. I stared sadly after her, tears welling up in my own icy, soul-piercing eyes.

Slowly, sturdily, I made my way toward the giant oak doors, which, behind them, stood the one woman who had redirected my destiny and the seven men who were about to get it back on course.


	8. Killing an Angel

Disclaimer: *sings to the tune of "Clementine"* Harry Potter, Harry Potter, Harry Potter is not mine

Disclaimer: ***sings to the tune of "Clementine"*** Harry Potter, Harry Potter, Harry Potter is not mine! It belongs to J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter is not mine! 

Notes: "Rendezvous" was part VI, not VII. I apologize for the error, but I'm too lazy to correct it. ^-^

****

For Earth is Hollow and I Have Touched the Sky

Part VII: Killing an Angel

By Pata

The multi-toned buzz of conversation ceased immediately as I entered the courtroom. I felt their eyes on my back as I strode up the aisle to seat myself in the chair directly in front of the seven justices. 

The head judge held up a hand for silence, but it was unnecessary; all talking had stopped at my presence. "Mr. Malfoy," he said slowly, "you are unfamiliar with the procedure for a memory interface, yes?"

I nodded, swallowing. "Correct, Justice. I have never had a memory interface before." I stopped, swallowing again. "Much less a live one."

The judge folded his hands, looking from me to Hermione and quickly back again. "The operation is quite simple. I will use a spell to open your memory, and will personally select important or exceptionally potent memories to project. Once a memory is selected, it will be 'watched' and 'experienced', if you will, by all those present." Here he paused, waiting for a reaction, but I didn't give him one. 

He continued, "They will feel your emotions as you felt them. They will see it exactly as you saw it, they will hear what you said, think what you thought, know what you knew. Once I am in your head, Mr. Malfoy…"

He smiled, the triumphant look written all too plainly across his face.

"…_nothing _will be secret." 

Hermione looked ready to faint again, but Harry carefully wrapped his arms around her. He mouthed to me, _Just enough for a deterrent._

I nodded, showing my consent. He brushed his lips again Hermione's ear, making it look like a kiss while whispering softly, "To keep the judges of Draco's trail."

I smiled, just barely. Hermione always got mad when Harry called me Malfoy. She played along, running her hands through his hair as she had done so many times for me. Their actions soon caught the attention of one of the judges, a younger woman with pale red hair and blue eyes. She cleared her throat, but Harry and Hermione kept up their charade.

"If you two are quite finished," she said rudely to them, "we'd like to get on with the trial."

Harry hastily released Hermione, who had to bury her face in his back to stifle her impending giggles. "Yes, Justice," Harry slurred, pretending to be greatly embarrassed. 

The head justice placed a pair of glasses on the bridge of his nose, removing his wand from the inner folds of his brilliant red robes. He pointed it directly at me, murmuring several nonsensical words that I didn't quite catch. 

And then, in a blinding flash of light and a sharp intake of breath, everything that had ever happened to me raced across my line of vision. I saw images of my mother and father, of myself, of pets, of house elves, of spells and girls and people and gold and possessions. I could feel the presence of another, one who wasn't supposed to be there, inside my head. 

The judge. The judge was in my head, sifting through thoughts and emotions and memories. I could feel it as he selected one, and then, in an instant, it was playing out in front of me as though it was actually happening.

*

At first, the image was flickering and pale, but it faded into focus like a projector coming to speed. It depicted a younger me, maybe four, chasing after my father. He was dressed in his best green robes, his hand tipped in a sexy way on the side of his head, dark hair parted and combed neatly.

*

I remembered this. My father was going out to a meeting, and it was our family's last night together before he left. He wouldn't be returning for a month.

Of course, as I realized this the rest of the courtroom did as well. I shook my head. This wasn't happing to me.

And yet, there I was. Little me, running after a father who took one stride for every six of mine.

*

He stopped to talk to my mother. Her hair was loose and flowing down her back, and she was dressed in casual clothing.

"Goodbye, Lucius," she said, kissing him delicately on the mouth.   


He smiled at her. "I'm not going to die, Narcissa. I'll be back before you know it."

This provided the ideal opportunity for four-year-old me to catch up to my father. "Daddy, Daddy," I chirped. 

He ignored me. He rushed off in a swirl of cloak and robes. I ran after him. "Bye-bye Daddy!" I called. "I love you!"

I grabbed the arm of his robe, tugging on it. "Daddy, why aren't you answering?" I tugged harder, grasping with my tiny hands. "I love you!"

My father stopped walking and looked down at me. Slowly, he said in his coldest tone, "I know."

And then he kept right on walking, shaking my younger self off his arm and knocking me flat on my butt. I stared after him for a long while after he had disappeared from view, tears moistening my glistening sky-colored eyes. 

*

The memory faded. I felt tears coming back to those same blue-gray orbs at the remembrance of my father's astonishing cruelty toward me. Surprisingly, my father did not stand up or protest. His mouth was open in shock and rage. My mother clutched his arm almost fearfully.

I shook my head, wiping away the tears. Even though the image had gone, the pain remained. Never once, not ever after that or ever in my life, had my father told me he loved me. 

"Well, Lucius," said the head judge in a quiet, awed tone. "You have the right to respond to that."

My father couldn't speak for anger. He just sat, mouth half-open, eyes unblinking. Finally he bobbed his head as to clear it. His tone was inconspicuously snide as he replied, "I'll waive that right. I have nothing to say, Justice." 


	9. Stained Glass

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. ***laughs like a madwoman*** And neither do you! BWHAHAHAHAHA! ***is given a "what the hell?" look by J.K. Rowling and co.***

Notes: Yeah, I know I've kept you waiting a little with this one. You should know that this is the third draft of this chapter because… ***breaks into song* **I can't get no satisfaction! ***stops*** Aaaaah! When did I start memorizing Britney Spears lyrics?

Shameless Plug: This story is projected to be thirteen or fourteen chapters, and thus I have started work on my next story, **Damsontongue**, an HP fic about why Lucius is the way that he is. Romance/Drama, PG13 or R. Multi-chaptered. 

****

For Earth is Hollow and I Have Touched the Sky

Part VIII: Stained Glass

By Pata

My father took his seat, a quiet look of contained rage painted across his features. He folded his hands into his lap, shooting a venomous glare across the courtroom at Hermione. 

One of the judges adjusted his spectacles on his nose, sifting through some paperwork. He cleared his throat and looked up at me. "Alright then, Mr. Malfoy, we will continue."

The words were barely out of his mouth when everything in the courtroom went blurry and out of focus, and I could feel the unnerving sense of someone shifting thoughts around inside my head. I tried vainly to bring the image of Harry and Hermione back to clarity – at least it would keep me from thinking about which horrid memory would arise next – but I couldn't rid myself of the judges' presence. 

Finally, they were done, the memory selected, and the world returned to focus. I blinked several times as the color slowly filled in on the memory playing out before myself and everyone else in the courtroom.

*

I was nine, very petit, silver hair combed and parted neatly so that it fell down on either side of my face. I was sitting on a street corner - in Diagon Alley, perhaps? – eating something. Something that I could taste, in the memory, an arsenal of different flavors. 

As the picture faded into focus, the label could be clearly read on the bag: Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans.

As I ate, a shadow loomed over me. Nine-year-old me didn't notice, not just yet. At the tapping of a boot, I looked up, and a small squeal escaped my throat.

*

Oh, dear God. It was that memory. My first taste of disobeying my father. The incident that had ultimately resulted in this.

My father knew it too. His face was contorted in a kind of mental agony at having to witness a memory that would surely incriminate him.

I stared, willing the picture to stop or at least slow, but it continued. My heart seemed filled with lead as I watched, helpless as to my own fate.

*

The bag of jellybeans fell to the floor, scattering the colorful candies across the sidewalk. My father grabbed my arm, cursing loudly and cuffing me sharply on the back of the head.

"I can't believe you!" he raged, his voice every bit as loud and fear-inducing as it had been nine years ago on that very day. "I told you not to buy those, and what do you do? You deliberately disobey me! You disrespectful little whelp!"

I was crying. My pleas were laced by sobs and therefore wholly incomprehensible. Unintelligible strings of words escaped my mouth. "Father, no, don't, please, never again, I'll be good! Why, why do you…! You're so mean - "

He cut me off, still angry. "Don't you insult me! You have idea what it's like to be me! That's awful talk for someone still wet behind the ears!"

His hand came down across my jowl, snapping my head hard to the side. The crack of bones in my neck was loud enough to hear even over my implorations. I let out only a small whimper of pain; anything more would get me beaten harder. 

*

At this, my father stood.

"This is foolish, Justice!" He protested. "We have seen enough to know - "

"Shut up, Lucius," the judge snarled. "You are at fault here. You will do well to consider yourself as much on trial as your son."

Silenced but not defeated, my father took his seat.

*

As the red imprint of my father's hand became clearly visible on my tear-traced cheek, I sat down hard on the pavement, stifling a scream of rage and pain. He hit me again, this time kicking me hard in the side with his boot.

My cries stopped because I was unable to breathe. I clutched at the site of the injury, and my hand pulled back with a thick coating of red blood. 

*

Unconsciously, my hand fell to my side, brushing against the scar. I shook my head, refusing to believe that this was really my memory being played. 

No. No. 

It can't be.

Make it stop.

As if in answer to my unspoken pleas, the head judge said, "We have seen enough to judge Lucius' influence on this crime. It is not to our advantage to put Mr. Malfoy to any more emotional or physical pain. We will move on to the next memory."

__

Oh, I feel so much better, I thought sarcastically as I felt the probing minds of the judges inside my own. They left almost as suddenly as they had come, and the memory began to play.

*

It was just a day or two after my incident on the rock when Hermione had broken my nose and I had nearly drowned her. I was leaving the infirmary, with Hermione just a few steps behind. I was very aware of her presence behind me for some reason.

I turned a corner, and she followed. Suddenly and irrationally angry, I stopped abruptly in midstride and she crashed into me with a small cry of shock.

"Why are you following me?" I demanded, whirling around.

She took a few steps backward, making direct eye contact. "You intrigue me, Malfoy."

"Really, is that so?" I snapped, turning on my heel and heading back down the hallway. "Why don't you go look me up in a book!"

She caught up with me, walking alongside. "You don't get it! You and I…we're alike."

"I have nothing in common with a Muggle-born." 

"You have more in common with me that you would like to think, Draco Malfoy," she drawled ominously. 

I thought about her words, but then shook my head gently. "No," I whispered. "No, we're not alike. You're wrong this time, Granger. We're different. We're complete opposites. We're…we're…"

She looked at me, and those beautiful eyes betrayed exactly what she was thinking. 

*

Everybody in the courtroom felt the strange flutter of butterfly wings in my stomach, the first sensations of a dangerous attraction. 

My father was watching the picture intently; he could feel it too, and clearly it angered him greatly. He looked ready to speak, but seemed to change his mind and held his tongue. The memory continued, heeding not to my desperate mental begging for it to cease.

*

I shook my head vigorously from side to side, trying to clear it. "Well, then, I guess I'll go," I said, nervous for some reason.

"Yeah," she replied, but her voice was distant and her eyes clouded.

"So…bye. I'll see you for tutoring on Wednesday."

"Okay. Bye."

As I left, I stole a quick glance back at her. The sunlight pouring in from the stained glass windows in the hall played all the colors of the rainbow across her face, and I sighed to myself as I let the strange, alien feeling of genuine attraction wash over me.

She stood there in the hall, not appearing to move, not appearing to breathe, and watched me until I disappeared behind the wall on my way to the Slytherin common room. 


	10. Flying Pigs

Disclaimer:Idon'townHarryPotteroranyrelatedtitlesornames,theybelongtoJKRowlingandIclaimnoownershipisthisdisclaimerfastenoughforyouitdoesn'tmatterifyoucan'treadityoucan'tsuebecauseit'shereanywaysobwahahahahahayoulosersgotrytosuesomeoneelseHA

Disclaimer:Idon'townHarryPotteroranyrelatedtitlesornames,theybelongtoJKRowlingandIclaimnoownershipisthisdisclaimerfastenoughforyouitdoesn'tmatterifyoucan'treadityoucan'tsuebecauseit'shereanywaysobwahahahahahayoulosersgotrytosuesomeoneelseHA

Notes: **Damsontongue** has wings but is not off the ground yet. I'm going to finish this story before I get wrapped up in something else. I may also do some cute HP slash work or some Digimon fics for the people in that forum first. But keep your eyes open!

****

For Earth is Hollow and I Have Touched the Sky

Part IX: Flying Pigs

By Pata

An awed silence fell over the courtroom as the memory faded. After a moment, Molly Weasley said quietly, "Well. I had no idea."

Arthur wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders, whispering words of solace in her ear. She wiped her eyes, speaking back to him in hushed tones. But she was just a little too loud, and I could hear every word.

"I know he killed Ron, but look at him, Arthur. His father was abusive, his mother largely stayed out of his life, no siblings - "

"Lucius probably killed them," said Arthur. "Shame he didn't kill the little Malfoy too."

Molly pursed her lips. "Arthur! Don't talk like that. I want him to be punished, I mean, he did kill our youngest son…" here she paused to dry her eyes, "…but I don't want him to be given the Kiss. Poor boy, he's only a teenager."

Arthur said, "He's old enough to be tried as an adult. He's therefore old enough to be punished like one."

"Don't you have any pity?" Molly asked. 

"Molly Weasley, the boy _killed our son_," Arthur hissed gravely. 

My eavesdropping was quickly interrupted by the head judge's stern monotonous voice. "Well then, all, regardless of the new light this sheds on our case, we will continue memory display as before."

He turned to me and I thought he was going to say more. I gave him a look as if to keep him talking. "I'd love to keep delaying, Mr. Malfoy," he drawled falsely, "but there are no words."

And the world broke into a million tiny blurred pieces. I blinked, trying to bring at least some part back into focus, but it failed. I was slightly angered now, having my privacy exposed like this. I attempted (vainly, of course) to drive them away from my memories.

They played several cute little memories of romantic hazy spring days with Hermione. The memories drifted slowly by, somewhat like a ferryboat, as romantic spring memories will do.

*

I was sitting on a rock by the lake, feet dangling just over the water, at sunset, alone. The water was dark, the color you see just before you pass out, the color of the furthest corners of your mind where you push things you don't want to think about. 

The blackness was woven intermittently with strands of silver and orange as the sun bent its magnificent head to drink of the water. Slowly, its bowed fiery mane sank as the purple of the night sky predominated the fading rays of light.

I toed the water tentatively. Cold, but not freezing; a not altogether unpleasant sensation. 

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

I let out a small squeak of surprise at the voice, slipping off the rock and plunging into the lake water in a very compromising belly-flop. 

The voice laughed, clear-toned and beautiful, as I resurfaced and spat water from my mouth. My robes were heavy and weighed me down, my blonde hair hung over my eyes and stuck to my cheeks and I brushed the few strands of my fringe back over my head. I wiped the lakewater from my eyes, opening them to see Hermione, sitting on the rock, hugging one leg to her chest and the other, bare, skimming above the water.

"Oh, I am gonna kill you…" I let the empty threat hang.

"What? You fell," she said with a laugh.

I swam over to the edge of the rock and grabbed hold of the slippery, mossy surface, using arm strength to hoist myself up and out of the water. Hermione was still smiling, and I couldn't help but smile myself.

*

The fluttering of butterfly wings returned, and I could nearly feel the anger radiating from my father. 

Hermione smiled reassuringly, but the tears in her eyes were all too plain. I shook my head. 

Don't waste your time, Herm. 

*

I took my seat on the rock, trying to find some shred of warmth or dryness, but there were none. A spring breeze rustled the treetops and blew over the rock, and I was possessed by a shivering fit. Hermione looked at me.

"Cold?"

I replied through chattering teeth, "No shit, Sherlock."

*

Hermione buried her face in her hands, knowing what was coming next. I wished desperately that I could comfort her.

*

She removed her robes, revealing her Muggle clothing underneath. She shook them out, then draped them over my hunched shoulders, rubbing gently to help warm me up.

"Thanks," I muttered.

She stared at me. "His Majesty is thanking me?" she questioned in sarcastic awe.

"I didn't ask for your attitude, Granger."

"I didn't ask for you to fall into that lake either. You should be thankful I'm being generous."

A snort. "Right, you, generous toward me. Look, there goes a flying pig!"

"Shut _up_, Malfoy!" She smacked me upside the head. "You're such a sniveling, obsequious weasel of a human being!"

"That's ferret, thank you very much. If you will recall, I am a sniveling, obsequious white ferret of a human being."

"Oh, whatever!" An exasperated sigh. "God, you're so ungrateful! I don't know if it's just the way you were raised, or if you're really like that, but – uh, you are so horrid!"

She turned away, angry, indignant, that she couldn't change me. For a moment I studied her, in complete silence, marveling, taking in the way that she would sit there, and that she take off her own robes so that I would be comfortable.

Twice I opened my mouth, and twice I closed it again, words failing me. Long I sat and looked at her back, wondering why she didn't walk away. Finally, I said, "And you're standing there, wondering, 'What do I see in him?'"

Though I couldn't see it at the time, her expression went from anger to horror to surprise and back to anger very quickly. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, fingers opening and closing spasmodically. 

I realized immediately that what I had said cut even deeper than I had intended. Slowly, she turned to face me, anger burning in her tear-moistened eyes. "For once, Malfoy, we agree on something. You really are a sniveling, obsequious white ferret of a human being."

And she turned on her heel and strode rapidly away, leaving me alone, wet but draped in her warm, red, Gryffindor-emblazoned robes. I sat, silently forlorn, as the last dying rays of sunlight gave way to the blue oblivion that was night.

The air was warm and the breezes had gone, but I was suddenly very cold. 

*

The colors left and the memory dissipated, and the courtroom broke out in hushed conversation. I caught snippets of speech.

"He was so rude!"

"Poor Hermione, she was just trying to help."

"Draco was falling in love with her! Couldn't you feel the way his stomach tightened whenever she spoke?"

"No, you're wrong. Hermione was falling for Draco. Didn't you see her face when he asked her what she saw in him?"

"Silence!" roared the head judge. "We are not finished! There is more to this memory. Then, if you shall all be seated, we will proceed."

*

The Slytherin common room was a rather cozy place, if not rather gothic. It was decorated sparsely; a fire burned perpetually in the hearth (though it actually gave off cool air in the summer), upholstered green chairs and a large sofa adorned it, and various small tables supported flowers and plants of all sorts.

I didn't linger in the common room, though, I shot straight up to the dormitory and put on some fresh robes. My hair had gone into 'post-swimming' mode, meaning it basically hung down like tendrils of silver-blonde around my face.

I tried to dry it but only succeeded in causing to frizz excessively, so I gave up and let it hang rattail-like. I was nervous, for some reason, I wanted to look my best. I used a quick spell to wash Hermione's robes and then threw them down on the bed and smoothed out all the wrinkles.

I fastened the silver serpent button at the top of my robes, gathered Hermione's in my arms, and exited to the hallway with more than a few questioning stares of other Slytherins following me.

No doubt they were wondering why I was carrying Gryffindor robes, and no doubt there was more than one kinky thought. I shrugged that fear off. What they thought was not important.

I made quick pace down the winding hallways of Hogwarts, so lost in my thoughts that I didn't notice where I was until I came nose to nose with the Fat Lady's portrait. She frowned dismally at me. "What do you want?"

"I, uh, came to return these?" I offered, showing her the red robes.

She eyed them briefly. "Fine." She vanished into the frame. A few seconds later the picture swung outward, and Ron poked his head out the hole. As soon as he saw me, rainclouds seemed to clash over his head.

"You," he said simply. 

"I came for - " I began, but he cut me off.

"Don't bother making excuses," he snapped. "I'll get Hermione."

"Thanks, next time I find some loose change on the ground I'll give it to your father!" I yelled after him, more rudely than was necessary. 

Hermione's face appeared. "What are you doing here, Malfoy?"

"I came to return these." I held up the robes. "Washed, of course."

"At least they won't smell like you," she snapped, taking them from me.

"That was uncalled for. I came here to be nice to you, and how do you repay it?"

"Well, how did you repay it back at the lake?"

"By returning your robes. All neat-and-tidy like."

A shrug. "First time you ever went out of your way for a Mudblood."

"You've been tutoring me. It was a kind thing of you to do." I rubbed the back of my neck uncomfortably. "So…I've made an effort to be nicer to you."

"Same way you've been being kind to Harry and Ron, eh?"

"I made no promises to them. Potty and the Weasel might as well get married and go on a honeymoon for all I care. If I wanted to follow their affairs I would have done it already."

"If anyone is honeymooning, it sure as hell won't be Harry and Ron."

A slight smile, barely contained. "Yeah, and who would it be, then?"

She looked at me, and something changed in her eyes, only for a second. Her face was so sincere, for I moment I was sure she was going to say something strikingly romantic about her and myself going on a honeymoon. But instead she said, "Go wash the lakewater out of your ears, Malfoy. I'm not going on a honeymoon, and certainly not with you. Like you said earlier, there goes a flying pig." She spat out the last part contemptuously, staring directly into my eyes. 

I failed miserably at trying to keep myself from looking shocked and slightly hurt. I tried to say something but no words would come. It was like she'd read my mind! After a few seconds of stuttering, I managed to regain my composure and snort, "Woah, sharp tongue you got there."

"Sharp enough to cut yours off, hopefully."

I raised an eyebrow quizzically. "You want to kiss me?"

"What!" A surprised gasp. "When did I say that?"

"How else would you have the chance to chop off my tongue with your own?" A wry smile. "Looks like we _will _be going on a honeymoon, the ferret and the bucktoothed beaver."

She glared at me. "I'd be careful, Malfoy. I hear that dressmaker in Diagon Alley will pay big money for mink and ferret coats to make expensive robes out of." With that, she slammed the door in my face and the Fat Lady returned to her portrait. 

"Nice move, hot lips," she commented uninterestedly.

"Yeah, yeah." I turned and left, strangely disappointed. 

*

The judge grinned ironically at me. "You were wanting for her to kiss you, Mr. Malfoy."

"I was a hormonal teenager," I fibbed quickly. "I still am. It's just…hormones. Nothing more."

"Nothing more," lied Hermione with a quiet sadness.


	11. Falling

Disclaimer: I like bananas

Disclaimer: I like bananas. ***everyone stares* **What? … OH! I don't own Harry Potter. What a swiz…

Mini-Disclaimer: The lines, "I think maybe the dark is drawn to the light like a moth to a flame. Maybe it is the nature of all things to be pulled toward their opposites," is from something. I can't remember what, but I didn't make it. It was the perfect line, though, and I had to include it.

Notes: If you're French in the kitchen, American in the living room, and Swedish in the bedroom, what are you in the bathroom? European! (You're a-peein'…) Sorry, that joke is really dumb, but I needed some kind of release… 

****

For Earth is Hollow and I Have Touched the Sky

Part X: Falling

By Pata

As the memory of the fight slowly dissipated, the judge wasted no time in continuing on. "Forward two days!" he commanded.

"No, Justice, I assure you -" I began, but he cut me off.

"Mr. Malfoy, I see your memory as clearly as you do. I know what lies two days from now."

Realizing that further argument was futile, I lapsed into silence, trying to hide tears.

*

"Malfoy! Malfoy!"

I stopped dead in my tracks halfway down the Charm corridor, turning around. Hermione came tearing out from behind the corner, waving her arms furiously.

"Relax, Granger," I sneered. "You look worse than a sled dog in the last race of the Iditarod."

She caught up to me, bending over and clutching the stitch in her side. I was struck by a strange and unfamiliar urge to comfort her, which I quelled. "Now, why did you say you were flagging me down?"

"I didn't," she panted.

"Then why are you stalking me?"

Horrified. "I am not stalking you! I just...I wanted to say I'm sorry."

"Ssssh, don't say the s-word!" I hissed sarcastically.

"Shut your mouth and listen to me for one second, would you!"

"You're an obnoxious know-it-all, you realize that?"

"Yeah." A one shouldered shrug. "I don't really care."

I stared at her. Then regained my composure. "So, you were saying something about the s-word?"

"Would you stop calling it that?" she snapped.

Snidely, "Of course, Your Highness."

"Well," she said indignantly, titling head in an altogether very fetching way, "I came to tell you I was sorry for being such a brat yesterday when you returned my robes, but now I think I'll just walk away and not say it."

"You just said it," I pointed out.

"It's the principal, Malfoy." She turned her back on me and began to leave. I started to say something mean, but stopped and changed my mind.

"I'm sorry too," I said, absolutely floored by my own words. "I'm sorry I'm such a ... rude, insincere, arrogant weasel of a human being."

She stopped walking, her eyes widening, but she didn't turn around when she spoke. "I thought you were a white ferret."

"Yeah, but I remembered you liked 'weasel' better."

The corners of her mouth twitched slightly into a smile. She turned around and took a couple steps back toward me. "I was thinking about what you said the other day, about us being opposites. I think you're right. I think maybe the dark is drawn to the light like a moth to a flame. Maybe it is the nature of all things to be pulled toward their opposites."

By now she was nearly pressed up again me. She was shorter than me, but only by about an inch. Our eyes met and a mutual understanding seemed to pass between us. Barely aware of what I was doing, feeling only raw passion and the heat of the moment, my arms found her waist and I felt her slender hands on my back.

Our faces drifted slowly closer. Her eyes flickered from my face down to the floor, then closed altogether. I couldn't think straight. I hesitated, feeling her breath caressing my cheek. She seemed to sense my reluctance and decided to do something about it.

She seized me by the collar of my robes and yanked me toward her; our lips met with a small 'oomph'. The first kiss lasted only a moment, the second slightly longer, and when we broke apart it was I who pulled her face to mine for the third, seeming never to end. 

*

I think my father nearly had four simultaneous heart attacks. He tried to speak but only succeeded in uttering some gibberish grunts and choking sounds, something like a cat hacking up a hairball.

I made several apologetic gestures, but I still thought he was going to explode. Hermione's hand touched her lips slightly in remembrance, and this time she shed no tears. That memory was a pleasant one, and one we both treasured.

"Lucius," said one of the judges, "please save your vicious outburst for later. Now, we will continue."

And, to my absolute horror, the memory kept right on going.

*

It was later that night, and Pansy was leading me into the dining room for dinner. Hermione and I would have lingered longer - and probably gotten past just a kiss - but a vengeance-filled mew from Mrs. Norris sent us fleeing opposite directions.

I ended up spilling out the entire spiel to Pansy. She was devastated, but tried to hide it behind a hollow smile and quavering laughs. She, like most other girls, knew I didn't date much, and when I did it was usually a one night stand. Dinner, maybe a movie, and the girl would most likely insist on a trip out to the furthest grounds of Hogwarts for an anatomy lesson, of sorts. Which was, all in all, fine with me. I didn't care much for most of the girls, and my touch was for pity. They wanted me, and why not comply?

Pansy was certainly surprised by my choice, though. "Hermione Granger? You mean that bossy, know-it-all Gryffindor bitch?"

I couldn't keep myself from smiling. "That's the one."

"You're a weird man, Draco. But if you like her, she can't be all bad. But really...a Gryffindor..."

Here we reached the doors, and I wasn't hesitant to say a hurried goodbye and take an alternate route to the other end of the Slytherin table. Dumbledore said something, but my head was up in the clouds from my moments with Hermione and I didn't hear it. Still somewhat oblivious, I took a lobster from the plate and began munching.

I didn't eat much. A couple of the more concerned Slytherins (both girls, I noted), asked if I was okay, and I answered truthfully, "Never been better."

Frankly, I was glad when dinner was ended. Hermione and I had a tutoring session at nine, and I wanted as much time as I could have to get myself back to reality. I gathered my wits about me and headed for the door when a hand reached out and snagged the back of my robes, effectively strangling me and yanking me backward.

"It's you," Ron Weasley cried. "It's you!"

"I know I'm famous, Weasley, but why do you keep exclaiming that?"

Quieter, more submissive, maybe even slightly shocked. "It's your cologne she smells like."

"What are you talking about?" A strand of hair fell into my eye and I blew it aside, my temper flaring up.

"It's what Hermione smells like." A quietly surprised whistle. "Your cologne. I've been noticing it for a while now, but I couldn't quite place the scent."

He was about to say it. I knew exactly what he was going to accuse me of – and he'd be right. I glared him into momentary silence with my piercing eyes, but he resumed his insinuations all to quickly. "You've been kissing her, haven't you?"

*

The judges all exchanged glances.

"Well, Mr. Malfoy," said one. "The moment of truth."

I covered my face with my hands, knowing exactly what I was going to say. 

*

"What would you know about it, Weasley, you couldn't get a girlfriend even if you _did_ try dressing stylishly once in a while, and you couldn't afford half a whore!"

*

I let out a small moan at my own relative stupidity.

Molly Weasley covered Ginny's ears. Ginny rolled her eyes, seeing as she was sixteen and quite old enough to hear the word 'whore' without fainting. 

*

Ron's eyes widened, then narrowed. "You - "

"What?" I asked cruelly. "I just tell it like it is."

He couldn't argue, as I _was_ telling it like it was. He didn't have a girlfriend, whereas I did; and, he knew as well as any girl, I was very much considered the heartthrob of our seventh-year class. 

It was quite unnecessary for me to continue, but I did anyway. "Oh, you know it's true, Weasley. Granger's mine. The only woman who ever kissed you is your mother. And possibly your idiot Potter-worshiping sister – wot's her name? Jenny?"

Ron hissed, "Ginny."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. I don't care. Is that what's happening, Weasley? Incest? I'd bet, your family is so huge half the people at Hogwarts are related to you. You know, I think Granger's related to you, too. Thirty-first cousin? Grand aunt once removed?"

Viscously, "If you hurt one hair on her head…"

My eyes narrowed coldly with sudden realization. "You're jealous," I breathed quietly. "You're damn bloody jealous."

"So you have been kissing her!"

"I'm not going to dignify that with an answer." I decided to be dramatic and took it as the perfect movie-moment to walk out on him. So I turned on my heel and strode arrogantly out, but it was spoiled when I crashed into a chair and fell onto my face.

"Hope it flattens that pointed nose of yours," sneered Ron as I gathered my dignity and proceeded, unhindered, with my stately exit.


	12. Stargazers

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Claimer: I own you.

Notes: I don't really own you. Unless you want to sell me your soul. ***bursts out into song* **Oh, the devil went down to Georgia, he was looking for some souls to steal!

Seriously, though, folks: The reason this story will be slowing progress slightly in the next weeks is because I have started summer camp! But not just any summer camp - ballet camp. Dancing straight from 9:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m. every day. So, as you can see, my writing hours have been severely cropped.

THERE IS CITRUS IN THIS CHAPTER. THIS STORY IS RATED R FOR LANGUAGE (as you have figured out) AND SEMI-EXPLICIT SEX. Think twice about reading if you are under twelve. It's not really explicit, but it's a little much for the kiddies.

****

For Earth is Hollow and I Have Touched the Sky

Part XI: Stargazers

By Pata

The head judge drummed his fingers on the table, letting the suspense build before he spoke. "Well, this has been quite a revealing romp through your memory, Mr. Malfoy."

I started to speak, but he continued before I could get a word in. 

"Surely you have something to say, Ms. Granger." When he spoke, he didn't look at her. His eyes stayed fixed upon me. 

"Or should you call her Mrs. Malfoy?" sniggered George. 

Fred punched him lightly on the arm. "Oh, come off it, that's just mean. Herms didn't do anything."

Hermione managed a thin smile at Fred's petname for her. George and Fred continued to bicker quietly about whether or not Hermione had been directly involved in Ron's murder. They finally settled on a bet: Fred's two Galleons said that Hermione was completely innocent.

"Well, Ms. Granger?" the judge pressed, undistracted.

"Yeah," she said. "Yeah, I have something to say. Draco killed Ron. We know this, he admitted it. But it wasn't entirely his fault. For what my opinion counts, I think Draco is not worthy of the Kiss."

The judge's lips remained pursed, but his eyes smiled coldly. "We shall see."

The low murmur of conversation ceased as a new memory began to come to speed before our very eyes.

*

Hermione and I lay side by side in the grass, looking up at the stars and moon. Next to us lay a star map and three Astronomy books. Hermione was trying to explain about Orion's belt.

*

Hermione recognized the memory and barely stifled a scream, which, thankfully, only drew the stares of a small few.

*

"It's those three stars there," she said, gesturing to a cluster of stars arranged in a perfect line.

"There?" I pointed to somewhere way off in oblivion.

She laughed gently, then guided my hand so that I found the constellation. "No, you squib, _here_! You're stupid."

"As stupid as Weasley?"

It was a dumb thing to say. I knew it as soon as the words left my lips. But I justified it, telling myself that Ron deserved it after he accused me in the dining hall earlier that night.

"That's a mean thing to say, Draco." 

*

I was certain everyone in the courtroom noted how she called me 'Draco' instead of 'Malfoy'.

*

She pushed herself up onto one elbow so she was facing me. "He's jealous you know. Of us."

"He knows?"

"Not really. He's pretty certain he's right."

"He is right," I said pointedly. "We are dating, more or less."

She said seriously, "He wants to kill you."

"Oh, he's just saying that." I laughed, but she didn't laugh with me. I put a hand on her arm, but she brushed it off.

"No. He means it, Draco. He's going to murder you. I saw the book in his room this evening after dinner. _Rat Eyes and Fish Brains, Curses for the Beginning Wizard_, open to page 214 – Death Charm. I caught sight of him reciting the words, practicing."

"What are they?"

"The words to the Death Charm?"

Sarcastically, "No, Guy Fawkes' phone numbers."

"Why do you want to know?" she asked, slightly nervous.

I took her face in my hands, kissing her slowly and passionately on the mouth. "It's him or me," I said. "Either he dies or I die."

She paused for a moment. Her facial expressions switched rapidly. Finally, she said, "_Nisyl da edt soma._"

"What?"

"Those are the words to the Death Charm," she whispered. "_Nisyl da edt soma."_

"Nisyl da edt soma…" I whispered, enjoying the feeling of the demonic words rolling off my tongue.

"Don't kill him now," she begged, "wait until morning, at least."

"Why wait?"

"I have to say goodbye. I…I have to talk with him. I have to…see him just a little more. He's one of my best friends. I can't just write him off without even speaking to him." She stood up and brushed grass from her clothing. It was a Friday; most students enjoyed wearing Muggle clothing on the weekend. "I should be going back to the common room. Walk me?"

"Yeah, sure," I said, somewhat absently.

It was late, almost one, everyone would be asleep. Hermione and I would have the common room all to ourselves. I was used to lustful girls who already would have had me before this, but Hermione preferred to be more natural, slower. 

I think I liked it better that way.

I wasn't expecting to do anything further than kiss her goodnight at the portrait. I was half-hoping that she would invite me inside. God, she was so beautiful. 

"Want to come in?"

I was tired, the hallways were dark, I was young and in love, and there was always the danger of running into Filch or that damned cat of his. "Sure, thanks."

I stepped through the portrait hole and into the common room. It was warm, with a big, almost bedlike couch, assorted armchairs, and a warm, red and gold fire raging in the hearth. I slung my pack off my shoulder, but it was open and a few of my things scattered out on the floor.

__

Fahrenheit 451 came to rest by the foot of the huge couch.

I started to say something, but she silenced me by kissing me fervently. Her hands wormed under my jacket, and she pulled it off my arms and threw it to the floor. 

That was okay. What I was going to say wasn't really important anyway.

She grabbed my shirt and broke this kiss for just a second to pull it over my head, but I quickly took her lips again once she was done.

Figuring that it was my turn, I fumbled with the buttons of her blouse, undoing each one. She bent back, allowing me to slide it off her shoulders. Her fingers found the clasp of my jeans, grappling with it before finally getting them undone and adding them to the rapidly growing pile of clothes on the floor.

Using the weight of my body, I forced her down onto the couch, my mouth never leaving hers. She broke the kiss, lifting her chin and allowing me to trail kisses down her neck to her bare body and back up again, her hands removing the last of my clothing.

She reversed our positions so that I was on top. She seemed so experienced, so professional, but I could tell by the gentle, virgin way she shivered under my touch that this was her first time.

I hesitated. "Are you sure about this?"

"Oh, Draco," she whispered, "I've never been more sure of anything!"  


"I don't want to hurt you," I said, quietly, so as not to wake the other Gryffindors, upstairs in the dormitories.

"Please. Please, I need this." Her eyes looked so sincere, so longing, so certain, I couldn't deny her.

She kissed my lips again, yelling, louder, louder – the screams giving way to moans and grunts, hers or mine I couldn't tell. We were dancing, leaping from cloud to cloud of pleasure, swirling upwards before reaching climax and floating back down like the last leaves from a tree in autumn. 

As the animalistic lust passed, she curled up against my chest and we rested in silence under a blanket, together as one being. Truly content for the first time in my life, I stroked Hermione's thick beautiful hair until I passed into sleep, feeling her heart beating against mine.

On the floor sat _Fahrenheit 451, _the Muggle book that had started it all, stained by the blood of a virgin girl tainted by forbidden romance.


	13. History Repeating

Disclaimer:Idon'townHarryPotteroranyrelatedtitlesornames,theybelongtoJKRowlingandIclaimnoownershipisthisdisclaimerfastenoughforyouitdoesn'tmatterifyoucan'treadityoucan'tsuebecauseit'shereanywaysobwahahahahahayoulosersgotrytosuesomeoneelseHA

Disclaimer:I don't own Harry Potter.I am tired, cold, slightly frightened, and it's extremely late at night and I don't own Harry Potter.

Notes:Yes, I know June 25 went by about eight hundred years ago.Lauren, it's coming, I promise!By the way, readers, Lauren's account is 'addicted to harry potter'.

Other Notes: The toad comment came from a reader.I fell in love with the insult and resolved to incorporate it somehow.Full credit for the phrase is given to ZONKOFRED.

Even More Notes:"Damsontongue" is up!Go read and review it or I'll hunt you down and trample you.I know where you live.I'm coming, Clarice. 

It's been forever!I'm sorry this wasn't updated, but with the Great Fanfiction Scare over, and myself back from a long trip and a bout of food poisoning, Part Twelve is finally here.Joy.

For Earth is Hollow and I Have Touched the Sky 

**Part XII: History Repeating**

By Pata 

As the memory faded, I sneaked a look at my father's face.Surprisingly, he looked rather calm, in comparison to the unnatural red his face had been before.He stood slowly, holding onto my mother for support.He was not pacified, only stunned.

"Draco," he said to me, "you were…in love with the Mudblood?"

I looked around, frantic."No!No, I…it was just a…façade…experiment…I was lying to her…she…was…"

The head judge drummed his fingers on his lectern."Spare us your lies, Mr. Malfoy.Lucius, please take your seat."

"No," my father said quietly.His voice rose in both volume and confidence as he continued, "No, I will not take my seat!My son has gone against everything the Malfoy name stands for!My son has brought shame to my family!My son slept with a _Mudblood!"_

Here, Harry stood up, facing my father directly with glittering emerald eyes."What is wrong with that?" he demanded.

"What is wrong with it?" My father's voice piqued shrilly."She's not pure!She'll be mucking up the bloodline!She's a dirty…"

"Lucius Malfoy, listen to yourself," Harry snapped."Your son – your _son, your very own flesh and blood – is in love with a perfectly good woman!Look at her." He gestured wildly to Hermione."She's beautiful, smart, nice.She's polite, committed only minor crimes, she's forgiving, she helped in the downfall of evil.She's everything you could ask for in a girl, in a daughter-in-law, if it comes to that!And your son loves her.That should be enough for you to love her too!"_

My father slammed a hand on the chair in front of him, screeching, "She's a filthy Muggle-born -"

"I don't give a damn about what her bloodlines are, Lucius!" Harry cried."She's a woman, she's a person!She has feelings too, you, you…toad!"

"How dare you!" my father yelled, raising his wand.

"Lucius, please!" the head judge interrupted, but my father was furious, enraged beyond belief.The judge continued, "Put the wand down, Lucius.No magic is allowed in this courtroom without permission!It is a _felony!"_

For a moment, it looked as though Father might disobey, but he thought better of it and threw the wand aside.It sparked slightly as it hit a wall, but he paid no attention.He launched himself at Harry, catching the boy around his shoulders and pinning him to the ground.

Harry screamed, using all his weight to force himself and my father into a somersault, switching the positions so that he was on top.My father punched him in the face, but this only angered Harry more.The boy sat up on my father's stomach, holding him down on the ground.

Unfortunately for Harry, my father was an experienced fighter and very strong.He brought one foot up and pushed it against Harry's chest, then the other; with this tactic he forced Harry to the ground.

"Justice," Hermione started.

"Let them be," was his only answer.

Clearly having the advantage now, Lucius kicked Harry in the stomach, then gave him a nice punch on the arm.With all limbs held motionless, Harry fell back on more disturbing methods.As my father socked his shoulder again, Harry's teeth flashed out of nowhere and sank into my father's wrist.

"This is crazy!" Hermione yelled.

Father cursed very loudly, yanking his bleeding skin free of Harry's jaws.His fingers found Harry's throat, and Harry coughed and choked loudly as my father increased pressure on his airways.

"Justice, please," I begged."Couldn't one of them get seriously hurt?"

The head justice replied, "If it comes to that, I will stop them.But let us see how this plays out."

"Justice," I began again, but his attention had returned to the fight.

Harry was making some guttural moans and hacks, sounding much like early cavemen must have sounded before the development of language.Frantic now, he managed to get his arms out from under Father's elbows, grabbing the fingers that were choking him and clawing like there was no tomorrow.He managed to get a secure hold on my father's left hand, finally peeling it off, and then yanking himself free of the right hand.

He coughed until his airways were fully functional again, holding Father's hands in his own to keep them from returning to his throat.When he had his voice back, he demanded, "What is it about Muggle-borns that makes you so mad?" 

My father freed his hands from the boy's grasp, rolling off him and getting onto his hands and knees on the floor.He panted heavily, glaring daggers at Harry.His voice was thick with poison as he replied, "Do you really want to know?The truth might shock you."

Harry brought one leg up and kicked my father in the back, flattening him out of the floor with a loud rush of air from his lungs.He lay motionless for just one moment to get his wind back, but that one moment was enough for Harry to pin his arms and legs back and sit down on his body to hold him perfectly still.The boy sneered rudely, "What, is it like a pureblood thing?I've got some news for you.I may have been raised with my Muggle cousin and his family, but _I am a pureblood.So do you want to tell me – and the rest of the courtroom – or not?"_

Father struggled uselessly against the arms that hold him.He spat bitterly."Why do you care?You don't care about me, or my past.You don't need to know why I am the way that I am."

"Do we?" said the judge, a slight hint of amusement bleeding into his voice.

Lucius' recoiled slightly, but not enough."You want to know?Fine, I'll tell you why I hate Mudbloods.One of them broke my heart."

"Elaborate," snapped Harry.

"Oh, you know her," said my father, sucking pleasure from every word."You know her very well, Potter."He paused, his lips curling into a sadistic smile."Well, no, that's technically incorrect, isn't it?She died just after you were born, I believe.At Voldemort's hand."

Harry's eyes were clouded with confusion, a mixture of denial and disbelief.

"Yes," my father mused, "quite a tease, she was, really.I was hormonal.She was my sweet, succulent fruit of Eden."

Was it my imagination, or were those tears in his cold blue eyes?

Harry shook his head, mouth agape, refusing to believe."You can't possibly mean…"

"Oh, I slept with your mother, Potter," my father drawled, so slowly and cruelly that it seemed to physically pain Harry.Lucius licked his lips, drawing the joy from each low, enunciated syllable."We were seventeen.By the pond, late one night over Christmas break.It was freezing, but we didn't care.We didn't even know, we were so lost in ourselves."

I was just as shocked as everyone else in the courtroom, but no one was as stunned as Harry.He was positively floored."My mother would never lay with you," he spat.

"Oh," whispered my father, "wouldn't she?She loved it, Potter.She loved me.I was on Cloud Nine with Lily Evans for a year and a half.And then it happened.Voldemort came.He rose.He was there, Potter.You couldn't possibly comprehend."

His voice was pained as he spoke, and a tear leaked from his eye.Harry was failing at trying to shut his mouth.He was speechless.

My father lamented in a tortured voice, "He took her, as bait.I was of prestigious blood, a great prize for any grand villain.But I wasn't thinking about that, I wasn't using my brain - I would have done anything to get my Lily back.You know what I did, Potter?"

Harry could naught but stare.

"I sold my soul to Voldemort in exchange for Lily.I held out my arm and received the Dark Mark.That's what I did to save your mother's life.I will serve Voldemort eternally so that your mother would live.And then she left me alone, nursing the perpetual pain.She went to James and used him as a fucking crutch!I sat there in the cold Slytherin common room with Severus and took orders from that asshole Voldemort for years, holding on only for your mother.And you know what he did?"Rage blended with the pain in his tone."He killed her.He used me and that annoying bludgeon of a human being, Peter Pettigrew, and he killed her!That night in Godric's Hollow, I screamed and cried and froze under my layers of robes, weeping in the wind for hours, Potter."

He stopped, breathing hard.Harry released him.Lucius wiped the single tear from his cheek, glaring at each of us in turn."I died that night.I became an apathetic wreck of a man."He made a disgusted noise."That is why I hate Mudbloods.They're ungrateful, horrid, impure tools for sick-minded wizards who take advantage of them, and they crowd and they crowd and they just keep crowding up the world."

Here he paused.When he spoke again, his voice was trembling."And they're beautiful.Why are they all so beautiful?Why are they all so out of reach?"


	14. Kiss

Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, would I really be writing this?

Notes: Oh my God, it's good to be back! Like my slightly altered pseudonym? Pata's switched from standing for Patamon to standing for Pataphysics and back to standing for Patamon – finally I just got bored and decided I'd change it to patafzx (but you can still refer to me as simply Pata). Violet saw it on a license plate. :) 

Well, the final chapter. I'm kind of sad to see it come to an end…by the third chapter it was really writing itself. But at least with its completion I'll be able to devote full attention to Damsontongue. Which has gotten a dismally small amount of reviews. *glares*

I do plan on e-mail this to a select number of my loyal reviewers, to make sure you get it. I hate it when things get finished and I don't know about it.

Please, review and e-mail me with feedback if you wish. I love making new online friends. ^-^ You can reach me at silverfeather@pierced.com or s1ncer1ty@angelfire.com, take your pick. And do me a favor – visit habatapa.veryweird.com. It's the civilization myself and a bunch of my crazy friends including Janaz Yasa, Beck, Jyrni, and Ryuuko Megami created. Enjoy yourselves!

****

For Earth is Hollow and I Have Touched the Sky

Part XIII: Kiss

By Pata

This strange and very unexpected revelation brought nothing but an awed silence over the entire courtroom. Lucius' anger seemed to have evaporated almost entirely, and he sat staring vapidly at his wife. After a few seconds of being scrutinized, he got to his feet and took his seat next to Narcissa, who threaded an arm around him. 

The head judge broke the silence quite abruptly by clearing his throat in a curt and rude manner. "Well then, thank you for sharing, Lucius." His cold eyes shifted from my broken father to Hermione, but when he spoke he addressed me. "We shall now see the truth of the treasonous murder you committed, shan't we, Draco?"

I responded with disdain, "We shall, Justice."

No doubt he caught the underhanded sarcasm, but he paid no heed, as I felt him shifting through memories and considering each in due respect.

*

Morning found Hermione alone on the couch. Hurriedly, she got dressed and scanned the room for signs of her absent lover. Her eyes fell on the clock.

5:27. AM.

What?

Early. Too early.

Something's wrong.

The emotions flashed across the inside of her mind like pictures on a projector. She bit her lip and cocked her head slightly as half-hallucinated voices wafted from the upper dormitories.

"So I guess accusing you of kissing her was kind of an understatement, eh?" Ron's voice. Hermione placed a foot on the bottom step.

"It won the award for Understatement of the Year."

She climbed a stair.

"You're such a bloody liar! I refuse to believe she'd ever sleep with you, you nasty po-faced pig."

Climbed another. Speeding up now. 

"You don't have to believe me. All that matters is that _I_ know it."

"Filthy dirty bloody liar."

"And you know what else, Weasley? I deflowered her. I was her first!"

"Shut up!"

Faster, faster, afraid for what might become of two of her best friends –

"Shutupshutupshutupshutup--"

--she burst through the door, wand in hand, to see Ron and I facing each other like rival alpha wolves. Ron turned, seafoam eyes staring in confusion and betrayal, at the beautiful face so contorted by fear.

"What do _you _want?" I demanded.

This hit Hermione exactly as if she'd been stuck in the face.

"Sorry, sorry," I slurred, pacing, slicking back my hair with a clammy hand. "It's just your jealous friend here is threatening to kill me and all…"

"Damn right I'll kill you," snarled Ron in the background.

"No he won't!" Hermione yelled, placing herself between Ron and I. "No one will be killing anyone!" She put her wand in her robes to illustrate her pacifism.

"Step aside. It'd be a pity if you died too." Ron pointed his wand at me behind her.

She stayed exactly as she was.

"No?" he cocked his head it mock-sadness. It was clear that he was deranged. "Well, it's a waste, but I suppose you'll just have to die too."

But Hermione had already made up her mind about who was going to do the dying here and she whipped out her wand faster than Ron's eyes could follow and she had already shouted the words: "_Avada Kedavra!"_

We held our breath but exhaled when Ron started to laugh. Laugh and laugh like it was the funniest thing in the world.

"Avada Kedavra? Surely you jest! You don't think that I've drank every potion, performed every spell, to prevent that very charm from working? Malfoy wouldn't know the spell _I _was going to use."

"Well," said Hermione, wringing her hands, "that's the thing, you know, it's kind of funny really--" weak laughter --"you see, I kind of, well, I kind of told Draco about your Death Charm."

"That's not funny," Ron said dryly.

She laughed pathetically and forced a very weak smile, then stopped entirely and hung her head in submission.

"Really," said Ron, "it's not." And with a flash of his wand and a murmur of quick words from his mouth Hermione was on the floor, eyes glossed over and lips parted in a silent scream.

I sprang forth to get my hands around his throat for killing her when he seemed to read my mind and said, "Relax. She's not dead. Just Petrified. Remember the basilisk? The Chamber of Secrets? Well, I found a spell in _Moste Potente Potions _for the exact same effect."

I was not pacified and I was on him in seconds choking and shaking and he was coughing and trying to get his wand up to perform the spell but I wouldn't let him. I was yelling things and even now I don't remember what they were, maybe nothing, maybe just yelling and screaming and then there was a flash of light and I was thrown back against the wall.

It looked even more painful as a memory than it had been, the crack of bones and the scream and the laughter. I'd let my guard down and in my screaming he'd managed to get a spell in, and I was writhing in pain on the floor and trying desperately to get up.

I'd thought they were asleep but by now I realized that all the others in the dormitory were Petrified too. Like the dead, they lay in silent rows and dreamt hazily on, while Ron smiled and I got to my feet and put my wand over my head and started to whisper the four words necessary to send death into him when I stopped.

It was dumb.

That thought crept in.

It was dumb as all hell that we were going to kill each other for this. Over practically nothing. A love affair. It was absurd.

But I'd gone this far and I was too proud and Ron was already preparing himself to kill me, and I had no choice, his lips were moving, I could feel my chest compacting—

I shouted something, nothing yet something, something that sounded like a very dark spell and he stopped and stared at me and waited for something to happen and that was all I needed.

"_Nisyl da edt soma!"_

Both our voices sounded at once and for a moment we both stood, panting like wolves on the hunt, staring spitefully at one another, waiting for the other to drop dead.

Nothing happened.

Not for several seconds.

And then Ron got tired of waiting and figured that the spells must have canceled each other out and he was preparing to say it again when, desperate and unable to think of a spell, I picked up a vase and hurled it at him.

He ducked and it hit the wall behind him and shattered, sending kiln-hardened clay in all directions, and a piece of it struck him the small of the back.

It was cowardly of me, in retrospect. But I took the blood and the scream in all at once and I cried again,

"_Nisyl da edt soma!"_

He stood and looked at me, not a hateful glare, just a look. The look a rabbit must give a fox when its knows it been caught. A dignified surrender. And then he smiled and opened his mouth and just like that he was dead.

Dead and gone, like a doornail. Like a tree, standing one moment and fallen the next. Like something lost and beautiful like the Titanic must have been. And I couldn't take it anymore so I revived Hermione and took her hand and we ran.

We left him there silent.

Somehow he did not die then and he still does not die in my mind. He just lies there in Limbo and smiles and tries to talk but is always silent.

*

I stared at my shoes while the judges conferred, if only for a moment. They turned to look at my father, and at Hermione, and at the Weasleys. All seven pairs of eyes came to rest on me.

"Well," said the head justice, "you have supported a very strong case, Mr. Malfoy. And while your motives are somewhat justified--"

A hopeful intake of breath—

"—the fact remains that a life was taken. The court finds you guilty. And you will be given the Dementor's Kiss."

A muffled sob from Hermione broke the ice first, and then pandemonium. All of the yelling stopped at once, however, when a cold wind like the hand of winter encircled the room and a black, robed figure enveloped me in its embrace.

"Wait."

My father was getting to his feet.

"Wait. He's my son. And I want to say something to him."

"Very well, Lucius, but be brief," said the judge exasperatedly. 

He walked up to me, just as composed as ever, and said simply. "I love you. I loved you when you tugged my robes when you were little and I love you now. And I just want to say…that…I'm sorry."

He turned away from me quickly and I knew he was crying but I didn't say anything except, "I love you too."

Hermione was sobbing outright. I loved her more than anyone and I longed for the chance to run over there and tell her but I knew it was impossible.

Don't cry for me, Hermione, for Earth is hollow and I…

I have touched the sky.

And I cried a single, pearl tear and lifted my chin for the Kiss.

__

~ f i n i ~


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